


The memory of you

by eclectick



Category: The Tunnel (TV)
Genre: Contains spoilers for The Tunnel Season 2, F/F, first person POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-05-28
Packaged: 2018-07-10 17:35:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6998059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eclectick/pseuds/eclectick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eryka Klein hasn't stopped thinking about Elise Wassermann since she left France in that helicopter.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	The memory of you

 

Murderer. Spy. Liar. Coward.

 

These last few weeks have left me with way too much time on my hands to think. And I’ve thought about everything incessantly, obsessively - could this have played any other way? Was there any scenario in which I didn’t put the phone on the plane and where you didn’t despise me for it? But there isn’t, and it was always going to play out this way, with us playing the same roles. With both of us doing our jobs, but one of us hating the other for it.

What an intolerable cruelty, to love someone so much, only for them to find your morals lacking. Do you really think it was a fun day at the office that day, Elise? Or when I came to identify Paul’s body and I saw the carnage and witnessed the devastation of the loved ones left behind? There are worse things than dying, but that doesn’t mean I’m blind to the pain that was caused to so many. I just think it couldn’t be avoided. 

Let’s face it, if I hadn’t put that phone on the plane, someone else would have. I meant what I said about being a soldier, Elise, and disobeying orders wouldn’t have accomplished anything except endanger what I’ve been working for my entire life. I do what I need to do to survive, and I will never apologize for that. Not that you’re asking for an apology - you’re not asking for anything. When we met, everything you blame me for had already been done; there was no other way our story could have played out, because I wasn’t able to fight being pulled towards you anymore than you could. I wasn’t entirely truthful - I couldn’t - but I didn’t do anything to hamper your investigation, either. In the end, my being on that other side you have so much contempt for allowed me to save your life, and Karl’s. That nice little resolution Olivier and Karl were happy to get was brokered by the most selfish act of my entire life. Oh, I sold it, Artem going rogue and needing to be punished, avoiding an incident that would have been going way too far. They were good reasons. But all I could think of was that I couldn’t stand the thought of you in pain, and I would have done anything to get you out of that situation.

Of course, it just granted me immunity for my part in the plane hijacking, which I’m sure probably didn’t go over well with you. How unbelievable, you must think, that I could get away with such a thing, that the truth about the plane would never come out, or my role in it. I wish I shared your belief in justice and a system that’s let me down in unspeakable ways my entire life, but I don’t. Sometimes good people do bad things. Sometimes bad people do good things. Most of us just try and navigate the murky waters of power while compromising the hell of our souls. 

I was, of course, completely wrong about being in love being nice. I don’t know what I was thinking - of old, temporary flames, maybe, of fleeting attraction to women I left soon enough, without a backward glance. But with you, I find myself quite unable to move on; unable to stop thinking about us, together, unable to stop the craving. There’s only so many times I can think about the smell of your skin, or the sound of your breathing in my ear, your body moving below mine, without going completely out of my mind with wanting you. We could have been so good together, Elise, I would have been so good to you. I would have loved you so well, and given you everything I have. But I can’t bring myself to turn my back on what I’ve been doing my entire life because you disapprove. You and I see differently, but I don’t understand why that’s such an issue for you, why you won’t give us a chance. Am I not more than what I do? 

Do you think this kind of love happens every day, Elise? How many times in your life do you think you’ll have the chance to experience this sort of connection? To find someone you click with, instantly, someone so compatible with you in and out of the sheets. Do you really think you can find the pleasure we gave each other with someone else? Is there nothing to be said for finding someone who just gets you, and who just loves you for you? Does it really matter what we do for a living, if we just decide to choose each other? But that’s the problem, isn’t it - I chose you, but you think I belong in prison, rather than in your life, your flat, your bedsheets. 

You said you loved me, but you won’t answer my text. You’ve turned me into a beggar, desperate for a sign of you, even if it’s just to tell me to fuck off, and I hate you a little bit for that. Where is my love for you supposed to go? Am I just supposed to get over you, the addictive taste of your lips, the weight of your stare when you looked at me? Am I to love all of you and still walk away? I suppose I must - you leave me no choice. Ten times I almost went into your hospital room. Hundreds of times I’ve looked up trains and fought the urge to just come see you now that you’re finally back home. But I can’t, when silence is the only thing I’ve gotten from you. When all I can hear is your voice uttering those words you’ve never taken back.

 

Murderer. 

Spy. 

Liar. 

Coward.

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive criticism and passionate arguments about your own head-canon are welcome.


End file.
